


Rome Wasn't Built in a Day

by MorMor_Fanfictions



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorMor_Fanfictions/pseuds/MorMor_Fanfictions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty is a struggling university drop-out with ambitions to run the biggest criminal empire London has ever seen. As Jim builds his crime ring in secret, he eventually must decide whether or not he can let Sebastian in on his less than legal trade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was nearly light out by the time Jim stumbled out of the rented office, incredibly disoriented from lack of sleep. He had meant to leave hours ago, but the combination of restlessness and surmounting to-do lists kept him trapped in the tiny space for longer than he’d care to admit. 

After the first few hours in the office, he had craved the day that he could hire dispensable men to file all this useless paperwork for him. He couldn’t understand why he had to deal with all this trivial organising anyway; it was fairly clear to him at least that this was all terribly illegal, why the need for mountains of paperwork to pretend that it wasn’t? Then again, he was faced with the issue of money. Having just spent everything he had on the office suite, he was forced to make everything seem legitimate if he hoped to start making anything. 

The time lapse had fucked with his schedule; now, on Saturday morning, he was forced to find other ways to be productive before he could hide away at the nearest pub for the night and run a few poker games for some money on the side. He resented the way his own brilliance was reduced to counting cards for a couple quid to make rent, but there was nothing else he could do at the moment. From the office, he would be able to start moving things in the right direction soon. He had a proper place to set up his operations centre to run a few credit card scams and a few basic level hacks before establishing his name. Having just dropped out of university a few years prior, he was limited in short term goals. His lack of influential contacts meant that he would have to build up an empire brick by brick with his own hands. Soon he would be able to hire others, to keep himself in the shadows and run his company on fear and power, but that was months, if not years, away. He could not yet trust anyone with his plans just yet.

Later that night, after catching a solid few hours of sleep, Jim had set himself up at a table near the back of the pub. Using what he had left from the last game, he bought himself a pint and used the remaining thirty quid to stimulate betting. The nights always started slowly as Jim feigned credibility amongst the few early players by routinely losing small amounts before subtly winning them back bit by bit. The real fun didn’t start until nearly eleven when the men were either happily drunk or well on their way. By that point, each had worked up a sense of confidence and bravado that caused them to throw down increasingly larger sums of money even as the alcohol continued to strip away their ability to actually play a smart hand. 

Five men had pulled up chairs to fit along Jim’s table, each bringing a swarm of men to watch over their shoulders. He could’ve been a damn fine card dealer, Jim mused as he dealt out the next hand. A quick peek at his own cards confessed that he had little to go on, but that was all well enough. Purposely, he bet more than his cards would normally warrant and watched as two of the men grinned and nudged their mates before meeting his bet. In a matter of moments he had lost nearly a hundred pounds, though now he was poised to take it all back. 

In a few quick hands, Jim had already won back everything he started with and a little bit more. With each hand he either lost a little or won a lot to keep the other men under the illusion that it was a fair game. He had just collected his third successive victory when he noticed a tall blond watching the game, seemingly independent of the other parties that had congregated. The man sat himself off to Jim’s left, fairly close but far enough away that he could maintain the guise of watching the game.

“You may want to lay off a bit, the one in the blue jacket is starting to get suspicious.” The man said, leaning over slightly to avoid being overheard. 

Jim paid his warning no mind and continued to play as he was. He had run countless games at ever changing pubs and was never found out, he wasn’t about to leave with anything less than usual profits because some stranger was a bit uneasy. His indignant lapse proved to be a mistake as he let his guard slip and began winning larger sums in an attempt to emphasise his control to the man. Before he realised it, three of the men had started to shout at him, accusing him of several different types of fraud all at the same time. Taken aback, Jim pocketed his winnings and the cards and leapt from his seat. Mentally berating himself for his own poor judgement, he tried to weave his way out of the pub on empty words alone as he made hasty promises and offered half-hearted explanations. He was nearly able to make it towards the door before the largest of the men grabbed him by the back of his jacket and spun him around. Once the first punch collided with his jaw, all hell broke loose in the bar. The man threw Jim to his knees, kicking him hard in the stomach before allowing the other men to have at him. Painfully trying to regain his breath, Jim tried to raise himself up off the ground only to be beaten back by another man. His new assailant brought his heel down forcefully on Jim’s hand. He bent down to grip Jim’s hair and jerk him up again to receive another set of crippling blows to his face. In no time, Jim was being tossed around so quickly he could not recall who had hit him or where. All he could remember after that was the blond man from earlier stepping in to take out a few of the men. 

When he regained consciousness, he felt around the wet floor before he even tried to prop himself up on his arms. Mercifully he found that he was against a wall and was able to bring himself to a sitting position before opening his eyes. The blond man loomed inches away from his face, squatting in front of him to wait for him to wake so he could toss a vaguely clean rag onto his lap.

“I don’t think they broke anything. Everything’s a bit bloody at the moment though.” He told Jim, gesturing to the ground around him that seemed to be covered in his own blood.

“What’s your name?”

“Sebastian Moran.”

“Jim Moriarty.” He introduced, trying to brace himself against the wall as he stood, “I should be going now.”

Sebastian hurried to his side to help him up, slinging his arm around Jim’s waist as he lifted him to his feet. For the first time, Jim realised that Sebastian had gotten bloodied in the fight as well; blood dripped from the split lip while the beginnings of bruises encircled his eye and trailed down his cheekbones.

“Don’t do anything too fast.” Sebastian warned, “I’m not convinced you made it out of there without a concussion.”

“My money?”

“They took most of it back. I salvaged about twenty quid when they scattered, but that’s about it.”

Jim fell silent and allowed his companion to bear most of his weight as they walked outside. Consciousness threatened to slip out from under him once again as he willed his legs to move slightly in the direction Sebastian took them. By the time the two men made their way into a cab, Jim could barely make sense of his surrounding.

“I’ll take you to my flat for the night, okay?” Sebastian said and Jim vacantly registered a hand roaming lightly through his hair, “I’m no doctor, but I should be able to patch you up alright in the morning.”

Jim managed a slight nod despite the lights that burst beneath his eyelids at every jarring movement of his head. Too dazed to react with any usual paranoia at the strangely altruistic man, he let himself fall against Sebastian again and trusted him to look after him for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim wakes up in a curiously foreign environment while his injuries from the night before are just realised. His mysterious savior begins to seem a bit less boring as his intentions remain obscured.

Jim woke later the next morning, aware of the stabbing aches of his body and the coppery smell of dried blood that had pooled beneath his nose. As he laid there, trying to summon the strength to sit up and inspect the injuries, it dawned on him that he was in a foreign environment. Cautiously he extended a hand to investigate the soft material he currently resided on. He reached a few inches above his head before reaching a barrier of the same type of material, confirming suspicions that he was laid up on a couch. Memories flooded back from the night before at the pub, triggering the urge to jump from the sofa, which he ignored in favor of assessing the wounds before making any rash decisions. 

At least he wasn't in a tub full of ice, he figured. As far as he could tell, both kidneys were still in place so that was a bonus. He looked over at the nearby coffee table and found his jacket tossed across it, but the rest of his clothes were still on. Going down his mental checklist of things that could've gone horribly wrong (dear god, please don't be in France), he finally concluded that the situation seemed to be nearly ideal. The only thing left to wonder was where had his strange savior gone off to? 

When he finally swung his legs off the sofa and willed them to stand, he slowly made his out of the living room to investigate. He stumbled into the bathroom moments later to find a mirror; propping himself up on the rim of the sink to steady himself. With one shaky hand, he dragged his fingers across the bruises along his jaw. Trailing the edge of a nail lightly up to trace the sick distortion of colour that wrapped around his right eye. 

He turned the tap on, noticing his bloodied knuckles in the process, to wash the remnants of the night off his hands before grabbing a towel. Sebastian appeared, leaning on the doorframe, just as Jim was cleaning the blood from his nose. 

"I heard the tap turn on. How's your head?" 

"Let's just say I'm glad I didn't drink last night." Jim muttered without looking up. 

"Those guys don't hit hard enough to do any lasting damage, I'm a bit worried about your hand though."

He took his hand from the sink, flexing each finger slightly to assess any damage. At the first wince of pain, Sebastian had already moved out of the doorway to reach out for Jim’s hand.

“What’s your play?” Jim asked, pulling his hand out of reach.

“I don’t have an ulterior motive if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wish you would, I don’t appreciate being indebted to anyone.”

“Then don’t consider it a debt.” Sebastian replied, shifting to take Jim’s hand again, “I don’t think it’s broken at least. Sprained, definitely, maybe fractured. Come to the kitchen, I’ll at least be able to wrap it.”

His mind seemed to finally kick start into place as he followed Sebastian out of the small bathroom. The first chance he got, he had to get out of there before the man started asking too many questions. Logically, now, he knew what had to be done, though as he walked through the hall’s of the decently sized flat, he was beginning to feel his resolve seep away as his mind began to click in a different direction.

“Ex-military.” Jim remarked, causing Sebastian to throw a glance over his shoulder, “And I thought I was the only interesting one here.”

“I’ve kept that quiet for a long time.”

“People won’t actually ask how you were discharged if you tell them, most don’t pay enough attention in idle conversation for you to worry about it anyway.”

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that.” Sebastian said, leaning forward over the countertop as he watched Jim linger by the wall.

“Only the quick survive.”

“I noticed that last night, you weren’t this confident laying in a pool of your own blood.”

At his words, Jim came closer and offered up the bloodied hand like an olive branch. He couldn’t fail to notice the thin smirk that played across Sebastian’s lips as he dug around in a drawer to produce the appropriate bandages.

“Why would a man like you risk yourself in such a savage bar fight?” Jim asked finally.

“A man like me?”

“Most men wouldn’t take that abuse for a stranger.”

Sebastian went quiet for a moment, taking care to wrap his hand properly, before he sighed and dropped into the nearest chair. 

"I don't really know why I did it." He said after a prolonged silence.

"Are you suggesting a should assume you're simply the kind hearted stranger you tried to play?"

"Listen, do you want breakfast? You're probably hungry and we could talk later."

"I should leave."

"No, really, I insist." Sebastian began, starting to rise from his chair.

Jim held up a hand that effectively stopped the man as he turned back to the living room to get his jacket. Once in hand, he flicked through the front pocket until he produced a small card bearing only the most basic contact details, which he held out to Sebastian back in the kitchen.

"Thank you." Jim said simply as Sebastian curiously took the card.

Without anymore acknowledgment, Jim left, aware of Sebastian's eyes on him as he found the door like a man that had lived there for years. Outside, Jim was relieved that Sebastian could no longer watch because, quite honestly, he had no idea what part of London he was actually in. 

He walked to the end of the street, ducking behind another building before he pulled out his mobile to check the GPS. It seemed Sebastian didn’t live far from the pub so Jim was mercifully able to locate himself quickly. 

Once he found his way back to his office, he wasted no time tossing his jacket on the desk as he worked off his shirt. In a filing cabinet in the next room, he pulled out a set of clothes. Slowly, he changed out of the blood stained clothes, stopping every now and then to run fingers over a bruise or clean off any blood that still clung to his skin. He noticed bandages on his chest where, upon closer inspection, it looked as though a man’s ring had broken the skin leaving a shallow cavern of exposed flesh. Without proper care to avoid the twinges of pain, he shrugged on the new shirt. 

He looked towards his mobile on the desk and wondered if it might ring.


	3. Let's do coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finally gets a call from Sebastian where he may get the opportunity he was looking for.

"So what? Do I invite you out for coffee and pretend I didn’t get your number from your business card."

"Would you have preferred I wrote it on a napkin? Or the back of your hand?" 

Jim looked up from his computer and pushed his chair out from under the desk. Tiredly he rubbed at the back of his neck before switching his phone to the other hand. Another sleepless night had been followed by another email early that morning. While he was pleased that things had began picking up, even if they were only small matters, he sacrificed his own well being at times to throw himself into his work. 

Now Sebastian had finally decided to place his call during the most inopportune time, nearly a month after their initial meeting. He had very nearly forgotten about the curious stranger, only to be forcibly reminded by Sebastian's sarcastic greeting. 

"How about in lipstick across my bathroom mirror?"

"Does that actually happen?" Jim asked, momentarily distracted. 

"No... Well once," Sebastian laughed, sounding eerily close despite the slight tinny quality his voice took on when he spoke again, "never mind that, I was still serious about that coffee." 

"What time is it?"

"Nearly ten. In the morning, shit, you're not at work are you?"

“Self-employed.” Jim assured, waving his hand idly in the empty room as he kicked his feet up on the nearby windowsill. 

“So coffee may actually be a reasonable request?”

A new window popped up on the computer signalling the newest email in a chain of many. Jim pushed his chair back to the desk, balancing the mobile between his ear and his shoulder as he pulled up to the keyboard. Quickly, he typed out an impersonal reply and closed the tab, shutting down the PC as he took his phone into his hand again.

“Coffee, okay. There’s a place right by my office, meet me in fifteen minutes?” 

Sebastian did little to disguise his surprise as he accepted the invitation just as Jim was clicking off the phone. He looked at the dark screen and vaguely wondered why he had agreed to go so readily after so long without contact. Eventually he chalked it up to professional curiosity, an ex-soldier that was ready to jump to his aid at a moments notice was certainly someone Jim could afford to pay a bit of attention to. 

As he threw his jacket on, he tried to differentiate whether this was a recruitment or a social call. In the back of his mind, he entertained the notion that it could potentially be both. 

Somehow Sebastian was already seated in a cozy corner table when Jim walked into the cafe. He raised his coffee cup in acknowledgment as Jim made for the counter to order his own. 

“So how have you been?” Sebastian opened as Jim took the seat opposite him, “Your cuts seemed to have healed well.”

“I’m fine, I don’t think I was able to thank you properly for your help.”

“No, you were rather in a hurry.” Sebastian smiled as he set down his drink.

“You have to understand that it was a peculiar situation.”

“Oh, certainly.” He waved his hand in agreement, “I didn’t invite you out to labour over the details again.”

Jim nodded, watching the other man carefully over the lid of his coffee. Sebastian had thrown one arm over the chair beside him, crossing his legs loosely under the table. His watch seemed new enough, expensive though it was likely a knockoff if Jim could just get close enough to tell. Around his neck, he could still see the thin chain that meant Sebastian still wore his dogtags underneath his shirt. His eyes were veiled by a forced friendliness that Jim fought to see behind, even his lips curled into a smile that concealed any true motives behind it. 

“Where do you work?” Jim asked, effectively disrupting the perfunctory sizing up that both parties had been guilty of. 

“I’ve been between jobs lately, nothing in London compares to the military. Currently I’ve just been taking what I can get.” Offhandedly Jim noted the less than precise answer, “What do you do?”

“I started my own business a few months ago.” Jim replied, trying to keep his answers just as vague as Sebastian’s, “I’m a legal advisor.”

“So you’ve been to law school? That takes quite a while, doesn’t it? It must be difficult to make much money right out of school, yeah?”

“There’s a reason you caught me rigging poker games in a pub.”

The blatant hostility and deliberately leading questions continued until finally Sebastian leaned across the table.

“Listen, let’s cut the shit and drop the facades for a minute. I’m not sure what you do or how you do it, but I want in.”

“If you don’t know what I do, how could you possibly want in?” Jim countered. 

“You must know I’ve looked you up on the internet already.” 

“Yeah, anything fun?”

“Nothing. absolutely nothing.” Sebastian said, “No graduation records at any Universities, no Linkedin profile, or even twitter. Christ, I can’t even find a reference to you entering a fucking science fair or something in primary school.” 

“So clearly my lack of childhood science accolades means I’m running some shady underground organisation?” 

“Yes.” He answered simply. 

Jim respected the man for what he did at the bar and more so now for his straightforwardness, but he still couldn’t be sure about him. Even if he was remotely interested, Sebastian couldn’t be worth jeopardizing his work when it was finally starting to take off. Either way he had jobs to do, it was ridiculous for him to agree to meet up for coffee when he was still so busy. He knew he couldn’t say yes to Sebastian, but he was having a hard time saying no.

“Have you ever killed a man, Sebastian?” Jim leaned across the table, taking on a whisper as he smirked thinly at him. 

A look of surprise briefly flashed across the other man’s eyes before it was quickly stifled by an attempt to look nonplussed. “You figured out I was discharged dishonourably, I’m sure you can figure that one out.”

“Brilliant.” Jim said as he leapt up from the table wearing a very false grin, “Enjoy living with that.”

He buttoned up the front of his jacket once more and was about to stride off in what he hoped would be an impressive exit as Sebastian’s hand shot up and encircled his wrist. 

“Jim, please.”

Something about his words set him off as Jim whirled around and bent down to be face to face with the blond. He looked truly desperate which made Jim vaguely wonder about how the odd jobs Sebastian confessed to must be going. An empire couldn’t be built on petty credit card schemes and forged passports, Sebastian had to be worth something to him. His military training offered Jim a curious opportunity, one that he had just about convinced himself would be unprofessional to turn away. 

“If you want to work for me, you will not call me ‘Jim’, is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Oh, you’ll be a good soldier yet.” Jim remarked, tearing his hand away as he resumed his walk towards the exit.


End file.
